


Fantasy Team

by RotherhamMan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Hypnotism, M/M, Model, Nude Photos, Porn, Porn Video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26792461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RotherhamMan/pseuds/RotherhamMan
Summary: A celebrity sports star and model is the subject of lust from a secret admirer...
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 34





	Fantasy Team

**Author's Note:**

> This work was a requested commission.
> 
> It was requested to be about a specific celebrity; the identity of this character has been changed.

John always felt good after training. No doubt the pump in his muscles and the comradeship of his fellow team mates as they all got high on adrenaline. He loved the roughhousing and messing about as entered the locker room. His shirt had been taken off a while ago to cool down and now the sweaty and shiny muscles were on display for everyone to see. Some lusted, others envied.

He loved it all. He wasn’t self obsessed but he was close, loving the attention and letting his ego feed on the implied praise. In the shower he would let the others take a look at the payoff of his hard work and check out, as guys would, his meat hanging between his legs, so long as it stayed at just looks.

With a towel around his waist he now shone with water and had droplets running down the crevices between muscles, his hair plastered to his face in a way he knew was sexy. And if the towel was low enough to show all of his navel and the muscular V undercutting his abdomen then all the better for any onlookers.

His locker opened with more of a rattle than it should. He looked for the where the extra noise had come from and found the source in the centre of the back of his locker.

There was a USB stick taped in place by a key ring, free to swing and rattle. John felt a moment of worry at the invasion of his privacy and checked his wallet and phone. Everything was there, all his clothes too. Someone had broken into his locker and taken nothing but given him a memory stick.

John went ahead and got dressed but he kept darting looks at the addition to his locker, trying to work out what was on it and why it was there.

When he was dressed he took it down. It was perfectly ordinary and didn’t have a very large memory, quite basic and simple. Nothing special. Not sure what else to do he shoved it in a pocket and continued with his life.

*

It was only much later when he was stripping for bed and emptying his pockets that he remembered the drive. It was late but he could stay up a little longer to satisfy his curiosity.

He dug out one of his older devices to test it on, one that was reset and had nothing valuable on it. There were stories of people picking up such sticks and accidentally uploading a virus. But this stick had been targeted at him specifically and because of that he wanted to know what was on it.

He sat on the sofa, in his underwear, and settled in to solve the mystery. There was a single folder on the drive called ‘Fantasy Team’. John opened it, a little cautious, and was met by a list of pictures. The pictures were named after himself and his team mates and some from opposing teams he had played against. Some had multiple names of two people.

John felt fear now, an impending dread. Whoever had given him this also knew the names of his fiends. Was this some kind of blackmail? Did they have compromising pictures of them all?

He opened the first picture, which had his own name, and was greeted by a picture of himself—naked! For a moment he took in the naked image of himself and wondered when he had posed for this? In the picture he was lying back on a bed, his gentiles fully exposed, and in a seductive position and smiling slyly at the camera. His body was piled up and the lighting perfectly placed to shine on the curves and deep cuts of his muscles. Not one of the pictures that had been taken of him by the modelling agency had made him look this sexy, it was the sort of stuff a porn star would be proud of!

After a long moment of shock he leaned in for a closer look, then felt silly and just zoomed in. Upon a closer inspection the picture must be a fake. It was good, at a glance it would fool anyone, but John knew his own body and could see differences. This was a very cleverly edited picture, he could see it around the face where it didn’t quite match with the body. Someone had edited his face on a body that was alarmingly similar to his own. It was very impressive, the maker could make a career in celebrity fakes with this single picture as her portfolio.

It had to be a woman who made this of course. It was, to him, a natural assumption and never did he thing a man would put this much effort into faking a compromising picture of another man. In reality John knew so little of the world.

John did feel a relief. As strange as this was this was not the work of some stalker—at least not in the sense that they were taking pictures of him going about his daily life. He went through the other pictures, one at a time and looked closely to make sure they too were fakes.

He had seen his team mates in the shower enough to know what their bodies looked like—not that he ever looked too hard, that gay shit wasn’t for him. But he still knew that the bodies their faces had been edited onto were just as good as the ones he had been. If he had seen these first he might not have picked up on it and believed his team mates had posed like that.

His close friend was there, kneeling and exposing his impressive manhood and body by placing his hands on his lower back to emphasise his assets. His head was tipped to the side and with a cocky smirk that John had no trouble believing.

And another of his rival on another team closely entwined with his captain, faces close as if as lovers. John thought that was a little weird, but girls would imagine the strangest of things about the men they drew—or in this case edited.

Without realising it John had gone through all of the pictures and, because of how they were on a loop, had been looking at the same ones over and over for some time. He was comparing the bodies he knew to the ones in the pictures and trying to imagine his friends like that. It wasn’t until later that he realised just how hard he was over them.

When he did tire of looking at the photos he closed the picture window down only to see another document at the bottom of the list of pictures. This one was a word document and, with much less hesitation than before, he opened it. His previous readiness for bed was long forgotten.

Here there were a series of short sections which he read:

The photo shoot left John feeling all horned up and everyone at the agency present, and they had all made sure they were present, was more then ready to help him out.

At first he seemed a little unsure, like he wasn’t sure he could handle all of us at once, there were about a dozen of us, but he soon realised he had no real choice. We were even hornier than he was.

He was naked, hard, horny, and surrounded by men wanting to get off to him.

John had been growing harder with every word he read, for reasons he wasn’t entirely clear on, until the last line. Again, it had not occurred to him that this might not be the work of a woman. But suddenly this seemed a lot less hot, the pictures might have been made by a man too. A man with a creepy interest in him and his fellow sportsmen—and access to the gym and his locker.

John found himself reading the next little section.

After his match, exhausted but elated by his victory, John returned to the locker room to find it filed with fans eager to congratulate him for his victory.

John felt like he could take on the world but would settle for these men. He let them rip his sweaty clothes off him and pushed him around until he fell to the floor on all fours, presenting himself for the men.

The rest of the team enter half way through and eagerly join their team captain. There is now a submissive jock for every man present.

John couldn’t help but picture it in his mind. It was easy because he had been the triumphant jock many times in the locker room and felt like he could have sex like a champion and he knew his friends felt that way too.

Sex if in the locker room was also easy, he had done that a few times, and if his friends were having sex along side him he could see them all enjoying it and trying to outdo one another.

Without meaning to he pictured himself in the middle of sex in the locker room, looking over to see his friend also in the middle of fucking. But his friend was on his back with his legs in the air as a man, a stranger, fucked him. On his other side another team mate was riding a man lying on his back. Both friends looked at him with dopey grins like they were enjoying getting laid and not any disgust at being used by the men.

But he was too. He was on all fours with a man behind him, a man he had never seen, thrusting into him.

John suddenly came back to awareness. He was hard in his underwear as a result of picturing himself and his friends being on the wrong side of an orgy!

He threw the electronic device aside and got into bed, screwing his eyes shut and doing his best to think of anything else.

But he went to sleep with his cock still hard. It only softened when he came in his sleep to a dream he would not remember when he woke.

*

The email came several days later. It came from a hidden email address but he knew what it was when he saw the subject More of the Fantasy Team. For reasons he didn’t quite understand he opened the email. Maybe this was the blackmailer’s demand as he had expected on that first night.

He had done his absolute best to forget about the incident all together but with little success. Like an earworm his thoughts kept going back to the contents of that drive. The pictures burned into his mind, only helped make the imagined scenarios clearer to him. The little stories had been vague enough to have him wondering what had happened after they ended and his imagination supplied the ideas whether he liked it or not.

He was on the set of a photo shoot but in a short break while they got the scene ready for a second shoot. It didn’t help that this was just like what had been described in the first little story but he was not thinking about that. Not now he had the email to think about.

But there was no text in the email, just an attachment. A video.

John excused himself from the makeup artists and was in the toilet stall before he even realised he had left a photo shoot to look at something from a stranger that, if it was like the last time, would be pornographic and gay.

But he was in the stall now, sat on the seat with his trousers round his ankles. He was just on the toilet, he could go if he needed to, that his cock was out didn’t mean anything.

He pressed play on the video attachment.

It was porn, it was gay, and it was him in the video. More accurately it was a man, probably the same one as in the pictures, who looked a lot like him with some deep fake technology to make the face look like John’s. It was uncanny and he could almost believe it really was him.

But he would never lie on his back, naked and hard, in a sex swing with his spread legs wide with a grin on his face as another man, just as naked and just as hard, approached him. As the camera angle changed he saw the face of the other man. He wasn’t anyone he knew and didn’t look like a fake. He was bald and with tattoos all over his body. He looked like someone you wouldn’t want to associate with on any occasion and he was now fucking him—no, fucking the not-him—hard. Behind him were other men of a similar quality, cleary hungry for their chance to use him.

The more he watched the more it was he could picture himself in the place of the false John. As if he were seeing it from his perspective. He could see the men fucking him with no concern for his feelings. He was a hole to them, a means to get off. And as they used his ass they also tipped back his head and thrust into his mouth as well.

They came on and in him and he looked not just happy to be covered in the spunk of another man he looked good with it splattered all over his stomach, chest and face. He licked up as much as he could and licked it off the fingers used to scoop it up when they were stuck in his mouth!

In the bathroom stall John came at the same time the John in the video did without being touched. The roes of cum landed all across the floor and door of the stall.

There was a knock on the door and John was jolted back to reality. He was not in a sling getting spitroasted, he was at work, he was watching porn at work—and the floor in front of him was covered in one—no, two loads he had shot while watching it! He hadn’t even noticed the first!

He hurried to tidy up, bucking up his trousers and then glancing at the cum on the floor and knowing it needed to be cleaned up. Without another thought he dropped to his hands and knees and began lapping it up off the floor with his tongue.

It was only when he was done did he realise what he had just done. A week ago he would have been sick and disgusted. Now he was mildly disgusted but hard as well, as if the humiliating and degrading act had been a turn on.

He scrambled to finish up and left the toilet. The makeup people fussed around him as he returned to work but he was a million miles away.

It took a while for him to get his head back in the right frame of mind for the photo shoot. What really helped was remembering the story. Once he did he pictured the people behind the camera, especially the men, as lusting for him, wanting to use him.

He embraced this, showing off for them and being as provocative as he felt. Piece by piece he took his clothes off as he felt himself get hotter and hotter under the glare of the lights and become looser and looser in his mood.

He didn’t even stop when he was in his underwear and his erection was plain to see by all and the damp patch even more so. The camera had stopped at some point and the crew were exchanging confused and embarrassed looks.

John didn’t notice or care. He then tore his underwear off and stood naked for all to see and wondered which of them was going to make the first move on him.

*

It was another few days before the next email came. This one was also from a blocked address but had the same subject so he opened it without question. This time he was at home and on his laptop so he was able to follow the website link straight to the site and see it properly on a laptop screen.

After the photo shoot incident he had been spending quite a bit of time at home. His agent had smoothed the whole thing over but that hadn’t stopped the rumour mill going crazy. Most had thought he was on drugs to strip like that but he had passed the drug test and made an apology to the people present. He was sorry, sorry he hadn’t appealed enough for any of them to touch him.

Since he had been home he had gone back to looking at the pictures from the drive. He should have known he would come back to them, if he really wanted to stay away he would have thrown it away.

He went through the pictures, just drinking in every detail and wondering if they were that perfect in real life. Desperate to measure up to his false image he spent the in-between time by working out to make sure next time he was naked before a man he would be treated as he wanted to be.

He hadn’t quite thought about how that may be but he knew he wanted it.

The link on the email took him to a gay porn site devoted to him. There were pictures of him everywhere. He had stopped seeing the little mistakes he had once clung to that showed them to be fakes and he now accepted it as him. There were more than the plain pictures of him posing naked, now there were ones of him riding dildos and pulling anal beads out of his ass. He had never even seen such toys in real life but had no trouble seeing himself using them as his picture did.

The further down he scrolled the more explicit they became and he was soon looking at pictures of him riding men’s cock’s like a cheap whore. Of him surrounded by cocks just waiting for him to get to them.

John was starting to wonder if this was all really a fiction. Were these actually pictures of him? Had he somehow forgotten doing all this? All the images were turning him on, there was no denying it now, and they looked so realistic even his friends would believe them to be real.

Near the bottom was a block of text that only made him more confused.

I never thought there could be such a thing as a living sex toy until I met John. He may be living and thinking but he is the biggest slut I have ever met and for all the resistance he put up might as well be an object.

He eagerly proved he would do anything I asked of him with great enthusiasm, from sucking me off to taking the pounding my cock could give him. Whether it was me fucking him or him going down on me, it was clear his pleasure was 100% dependant on mine.

Even when I was spent—after several hours and loads—he was still begging me for more! I had to prise him off me and slap his face and spank his ass until he behaved.

This is a slut who cannot be satisfied. Every hole has to be filled all the time, needing a constant supply of men to fuck him. His insatiable appetite will make a lot of real men really happy!

It was like reading his own internal thoughts. Someone had written down what he was thinking and he could picture it clearly as if remembering.

The studio, the mattress, the interviewer (if you could call him that) who had wasted no time in ripping John’s clothes off and making use of him and how sad he had been when it was all over. It was what he had wanted to happen at the photo shoot and now needed more than anything.

John was rubbing his ass on his chair, grinding it on an imagined cock. His tongue worked around his mouth looking for something to suck on. He gave no attention to his hard cock, that wasn’t important. It was the men who he wanted to please who were important—who were the most important thing in his life. His reason for living

He came in his pants, whining as he did. He wanted the real thing!

*

It was the next morning he woke up to another email. It wasn’t a link or an attachment. It simply read: Tired of fake nude yet? COME and make the REAL ONE!

And underneath there was an address.

An hour later his agent came to call on him at his house to see what was going on with him. He found John was gone. All of his belongings, including his phone and wallet and passport, were all there. The guy had simply vanished.

*

He was at the address within the hour. It was a large, seemingly abandoned building. In anyone else it would be setting off alarm bells to run away but John ignored them. He was here to fulfil his purpose in life.

He found the door and knocked on it. He hoped he looked good, he had put on his most revealing clothes that only covered the bare minimum and showed off all his assets. A loose vest showing off his arms, shoulders and most of his chest, and a pair of jeans he had taken a pair of scissors to, cutting them off as high as he could. The only underwear he had put on was a sweaty jockstrap from the laundry.

A month ago he would have felt exposed but not today, he had nothing to hide from these people. He was so far beneath them he could not pretend to be anything else. The line between where his life ended and the fake life he had seen in pictures and videos and stories had become so blurred he wasn’t sure if either were real or fake.

Just as he was getting angsty for someone to answer the door did open and a man was stood there, looking down on him. John could only describe him as a real man, from the way he held himself to the way he was dressed in a pristine suit, he knew his place a lot better than John did. His shaved head and the tattoos peeking out from the suit put him low on the social hierarchy but that meant nothing, he was still higher than John and deserved—no, demanded—his respect and obedience!

Was it any surprise John practically threw himself at the man’s feet and begged to be used like the toy he knew he was? The man seemed to approve of this and guided him inside, still on his hands and knees.

The door closed on the quiet and deserted street and John’s old life.


End file.
